


From where we began

by livinginthequestion



Series: SPN Prompts [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Mark of Cain, Season 10 canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthequestion/pseuds/livinginthequestion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: What if they find a way to heal the Mark permanently - and Dean wants to retire?</p>
            </blockquote>





	From where we began

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt and started writing several weeks ago. It's obviously Jossed by S10 finale, but this is what I want for them: peace when they are done. :)

It doesn’t quite feel like a hunt. Sam and Cas are in the Impala without Dean, for one thing; and the only sound is road noise, air rushing by the open windows, no music rolling out of the speakers. The first couple of hours driving are uncharacteristically quiet. 

They're headed for a little town south of Wichita Falls – Dean found the case, told them about it enthusiastically, a simple salt-and-burn by the sound of it. Most of a day's drive to get there, handle it, come back the next day. Easy-peasy. It wasn't until Sam agreed they should probably take the case that Dean made it clear he wasn't going. 

“I did the grocery shopping this morning, I don't really have anywhere I need to go. Thought I'd try that bread recipe, and there's a Dr. Sexy marathon on, so, y'know, I'll be fine.” His smile was bright, relaxed, happy to have them get in his Baby and drive off down the road and handle the case, come back to fresh bread and all the laundry done. 

Sam stood and stared, mouth open but nothing coming out. Cas squinted at Dean for a minute. The two of them exchanged a long look, one of those entire-conversations-in-a-glance typical of longtime _friends,_ or whatever they are. Sam was about to laugh at them – _you don't really think you're fooling anybody, do you?_ – when Dean looked back at him with a smile that was like a blast from the past, a sweeter, younger Dean, almost shy. 

All Dean said was: “Think I'll sit this one out, Sammy. You guys go, you're a good team, you can handle this without me.”

Cas stood perfectly still, his eyes on Dean’s face for few seconds, and then turned and patted Sam’s arm reassuringly. 

“It’ll be all right, Sam. Don't worry, he'll be fine.”

“Yeah, I'll be great. Nice to have some quiet time.” Dean looked like he'd just as soon they left right that minute, he had shit to get started on. 

Sam frowned a little and opened his mouth to protest, or ask for an explanation, or something, but then he glanced at Cas and caught him looking at Dean again, got a good look at the expression on Cas' face – and Sam's protest died on his lips. He just nodded and took a deep breath.

“Sure, Dean, we'll take care of it. Sounds like a good time to take yourself a break, right?” He smiled at Cas' grateful look. “We can get packed up tonight and hit the road early, that okay?” Cas nodded, smiling back and forth at the two of them. And so they did.

 

Now here they are a hundred miles from home, the sun just up, the cool, pale light painting the farms and cornfields of south-central Kansas. Sam glances over at Cas, who's gazing out the window watching a herd of cows slip by.

“So, Cas, um...” Sam chews his lower lip for a second, not sure how to proceed. Sam knows, he's known for a long time, that Cas loves Dean unreservedly, would do anything for him. Hell, he _has_ done anything to save him, to free Dean from the curse of the Mark and give him the chance Dean wouldn't have had otherwise. Sam's also lived with Dean for far too long to miss the signs that Dean's head over heels for his angel too. He sighs, and glances over at Cas, to see Cas watching him with that little frown between his eyes.

“What is it, Sam?”

“Well, I was – it's about Dean, actually. It just surprised me that he didn't want to come on this hunt. He did the research, had all the ducks in a row and everything, but he practically pushed us out the door. Do you – do you know what's up with him?”

It's Cas' turn to sigh and look out the window for a minute. He looks back at Sam with an odd expression on his face – partly sad, and partly optimistic.

“I owe you a bit of an apology, I think, Sam. Dean and I have talked about this several times over the last few weeks, since he started feeling better after the - the spell.” Cas frowns down at the seat between them. “His arm was nearly healed, and his strength was coming back, and he started – withdrawing, in a way. He was quiet, kept to himself a bit more.”

Sam's nodding. “I remember. I thought he was still feeling the effects.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, when I finally asked him what was wrong, it turns out he was thinking about – his future, I suppose you'd say. He was considering the life the two of you have had, the hunter's life, and questioning what he wants from now on.” Something in Cas' voice make Sam look over at him; there's just the beginning of tears showing in the corners of Cas' eyes.

“Hey, Cas, hey. Dean's all right, he's gonna be fine.” Sam frowns worriedly, glancing between Cas' face and the road.

Cas smiles gently. “Yes, I know. I'm not worried, I'm actually very pleased. I'm happy to hear him talking about his future, actually expecting to have one.”

“Yeah, me too. It's great, isn't it? So what'd he say to you?”

Cas sighs. “Well, Sam, I hope you won't be too upset but I think – Dean wants to retire.”

“Retire? You mean, not be a hunter any more?”

“Yes, that's what I mean. That's what he wants. I'm not exactly sure what he does want to do, I don't think he's really thought that far ahead. But he's very clear: he doesn't want to go out hunting any more.”

For several minutes Sam drives silently, frowning and blinking at the road rolling out in front of them. Finally, he looks over at Cas and nods, smiling.

“Y'know, I think that's perfect. And I think I have an idea about what he could do.”

 

When the phone rings Dean's up to his elbows in a bowl of bread dough. He curses, and spends several seconds trying to pull the sticky dough off at least a couple of fingers so he can answer. Finally, he hauls the phone out of his pocket. It's Sam, and Dean sets the phone on a clean spot on the table and puts it on speaker.

“Hey. What's up?”

He can tell by the background noises that Sam's in a motel room; it sounds like a game show or something on the television, and distant traffic noises. Sam says something in a muffled voice, and then comes to the phone.

“Hey Dean, how are ya?”

“Fine, fine, I'm a little busy, Sammy. What's going on?”

“Oh, sorry, _busy_ , don't let me keep you from your reruns.” Sam's snorting with laughter. “Hey, Cas says hi, hope you're not too busy for that.”

Dean can't help smiling softly. “Tell him hey from me.”

“Will do. So we're in Jermyn, Texas, if you can believe that. We checked into a motel and we've been doing some interviews and researching a little more. We were gonna do this tonight but I think it's not a regular ghost. No big deal, but Cas thinks we might need a spell to go with the burn, and I think what we need is in one of the lore books in the bunker library. Think you could look it up for me?”

Dean hmphs irritably. “Geez, Sammy, I got my hands full right at the moment. Your timing sucks as usual.”

He can almost hear Sam's eyebrows go up. “What, you can't put the remote down for ten minutes and look up this spell?”

“For your information, Mr. Peabody, I'm making bread. Still mixing, and then I gotta knead awhile before I let it rise.”

Sam is completely silent for a count of ten, and then he bursts out laughing. Dean can hear Cas' voice in the background.

“Nah, he's fine, Cas, I'll tell you in a minute. Okay, Emeril, how about you call me back when your bread doesn't need you?”

Dean can feel himself blushing. “Yeah, yeah, smartass. I'll call you later. Maybe I'll wait till it's out of the oven so I can describe the deliciousness you're missing.”

Sam's still chuckling; his voice is fond. “Jerk.”

Dean smiles. “Bitch. Later.”

 

And that's how it goes. A couple of weeks later there's a hunt near Chicago; it takes Sam and Cas three days to get it handled. They finish up late enough in the day that they decide they're too tired to drive, and check into a motel. By the time they get back from dinner Dean's calling with another hunt in Davenport, more or less on the way home and less complicated. He thinks they can handle it on their way home, so they do. When they finally do get back, a couple of days later than expected, they discover that Dean's set up a wood shop in one of the unused rooms off the garage, and is in the process of building a set of bookshelves and a storage closet out of a pile of beautiful old black walnut. 

“It'sforyourroom,” he mutters shyly at Sam, not looking at him. Sam fumbles for something to say, and when he looks over at Cas he sees that little smile.

 

Some weeks later, on a day when Dean’s on his big grocery run, Sam gets an unexpected call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sam! Garth Fitzgerald IV here, how are ya? Long time, no speak!”

“Hey, Garth, I'm great, good to hear your voice. How are you guys doing?”

“Rollin' along smooth as butter. Life is good, my friend.”

“Yeah, it is. So what can I do for you?”

“Well, I wanted to – I wanted to check in with you about – it's about Dean. No worries, he sounds fine, he just, he called me and wanted to talk about...” Garth trails off; Sam hears him making tsking noises for a minute. “He was asking me about cases, thought I might sometimes hear about things that would be in y'all's wheelhouse. Nothing specific, just sort of knocking around some ideas.”

Sam frowns. “Ideas? Like, for instance...?”

“Well, actually, Sam, it kinda sounded like he wants to organize some kind of hunters' network, like a clearinghouse sort of setup. It's actually not a bad idea, it would help all of us keep up with new information, and maybe get cases handled more efficiently.” Garth pauses. “The more I think about it the better I like it, I just – it was kinda out of the blue hearing from Dean like that, and with something like this. He was pretty jacked up about it.”

“Huh.” Sam's blinking and looking off out the window, frowning in thought. Cas comes into the library and sees him standing there, gives him a questioning look. Sam holds up a finger: _wait_.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Garth, I'm here, just scratching my head a little. It does sound like something worth pursuing, I just wondered why...”

“Why I'm calling you? Why Dean called me?”

“Yeah, mostly why Dean called you, how he sounded to you.” Cas' eyebrows go up, and he comes to stand in front of Sam. His frown deepens.

“Well, Sam, that's kinda what I was gonna ask you. How's Dean been? I heard some stories about the the Mark of Cain and that spell thing y'all did. Is he all right? Back to the normal ol' Dean we all know and love?” Sam can hear the smile in Garth's voice, and he smiles too.

“Yeah, he's actually doing really well. But he does seem – I dunno, changed. I guess that makes sense, after something like that you'd never be the same again.” Cas is giving him the sad-puppy eyes, and Sam turns away a little. “He's been – well, he's been sitting out the hunts since he got back on his feet. He's been doing research and stuff from here. Hey Garth, I'm gonna put you on speaker, Cas is here and I want him in on this too, if you don't mind.”

“Naw, no problem, go ahead. Hey, Cas, how are ya?”

Cas makes a face at the tinny speaker sound. “I'm well, Garth, thank you. How about you?”

“I'm just fine, thanks so much for asking. Sam and I were just talking about what's going on with Dean.”

“He's well, I think. His strength has returned, he seems very healthy.”

Garth chuckles. “Well, I guess I meant other than physically. He and I had a chat not long ago about forming some kind of network for hunters and having a central clearinghouse type operation. And Sam tells me Dean's been doing your research and support stuff instead of going out hunting. D'you think he's...” Garth's voice trails off, and it's easy to imagine what he's thinking, what Sam's been thinking too: _Has Dean lost his edge?_

Cas shakes his head, though, and speaks firmly. “Dean's not afraid of doing the job, if that's what you're thinking. He's as fearless as ever. I think he's just – I think he's tired, his spirit is exhausted. There's nobody on earth who's been through what he has. His experience with the Mark, and the ordeal of getting rid of it, is just the last in a long line of terrible struggles for him.” Cas stops and looks down at the floor for a moment; Sam can see that he's struggling to compose himself. When Cas speaks again his voice is softer.

“No hunter believes in the – rightness of what you do more than Dean Winchester. He's been committed to this work for most of his life, and that hasn't changed. I think he's trying to find a way to keep doing it, and somehow take care of himself too. I'm very pleased to hear that he's discussed this with you, Garth. You would be the perfect person to help him work out the details.”

Garth hmphs and haws a little, but he sounds pleased. “Well, thank you, sir, that's good of you to say. Don't take this the wrong way, I just wanted to make sure – y'know, he's back to full charge on the batteries. I wouldn't – I just want him to be okay, that's all.”

Sam's nodding. “I know, Garth, and I promise you he is. If he went so far as to actually call you to talk about this, then he's ready to roll. What's your plan?”

“Well, I told him I'd do some thinking and chewing on it and call him in a few days, start gettin' specific. The only thing I know he's pretty for-sure on is making that bunker of yours Hunter Central – record-keeping and phones and computer and so on.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. There's loads of room, and some of the resources you'd need are already here. And Dean really loves it here, it'd be good for him.” Sam looks up to see Cas beaming at him.

“Well, okay, fellers, that's really put my mind at ease. I'll have a chat with the Dean-man in a couple days and and I'm sure he'll let you know what's up. Good chattin' with y'all – and thanks, Sam.”

“Of course, Garth, any time. Thanks for – for caring about Dean.” Sam pauses uncertainly. “Sure wouldn't mind if you came down to visit during all this planning.” He holds his breath, hoping he hasn't overstepped.

Garth is mostly silent; Sam can barely hear a tiny sigh. “Wish I could, Sam, I'd love seeing you all again. I – I think it's best if I stick close to home, y'know, not tempt the fates or anything.” His laugh is a little hollow.

Sam makes a face. “I know, sorry, don't mean to – Sorry, Garth.”

“No worries, my friend. Take good care, both of you.”

Sam hangs up; when he turns around Cas is watching him carefully.

“What do you think, Cas? Have you guys talked about this?”

“A little, yes. I suggested he call Garth. I have always respected Garth's intelligence and his creative mind, and of course he's not hunting any longer.”

“Of course.” Sam rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Y'know, before, when we were on that case in Texas and we were talking about this in the car?” Cas nods, frowning a little at him. “I was thinking sort of along these lines. That's when I called him about that ritual, when we realized it was more than just a spirit and we needed help. He's always been good with the lore and the research, even though he usually let me do most of it. He's smart and instinctive, he's really good. This central command idea is just a bigger-scale version of that. He could be the place hunters go for that kind of info, research, weapons, all that.” He's smiling a faraway smile, remembering. “Did I ever tell you he once built an EMF meter out of a Walkman?”

Cas looks a little bewildered, but he's smiling too. “That sounds like Dean. He's very inventive.” He frowns at Sam. “What?”

Sam has glanced up sharply, a little smile on his lips. Cas looks even more puzzled, so Sam just shakes his head.

“Never mind, not important. Um, so it sounds like he and Garth are really into this. What can we do to help make it happen?”

 

Dean manages to open the door with his elbow and kick it the rest of the way open; his arms are loaded with grocery bags.

“Hey, you guys here? Heeeeyyy!” No response; the bunker is so quiet he can the low background hum of its machinery. “Hey, Sam! Cas! You guys wanna eat, you better come help me carry!” He's rounding the corner into the kitchen when he hears a door banging open deep in the bunker.

“Dean, that you?” Sam's voice echoes a little.

“Yep, more bags in the car, can you go get 'em?”

“On my way!” Sam's steps fade down the hall toward the garage. Dean turns back toward the kitchen, and runs smack into Cas.

“Dammit!” Dean jumps, startled, and then leans against the wall. “Man, all these years and I still can't hear you coming up behind me. We gotta get you a bell.” He straightens up, to see Cas' eyes sparkling with amusement. “You dick, you totally do that on purpose, don't you?” Dean laughs delightedly.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Dean.” Cas is just barely keeping a smile from breaking across his face. Before he can remind himself that Sam's coming back any second, Dean leans forward and plants a kiss on Cas' cheek.

“You're still a dick, but you're pretty funny.” Dean winks and Cas blushes, the smile breaking loose and lighting up his face.

“Are there – do you still need help bringing in your purchases?”

“Nah, I think Sam's got it. C'mon, help me put stuff away so I can cook dinner. How's roast beef and twice-baked potatoes sound?”

Cas chuckles and shakes his head. “Delicious, as always.”

 

There's apple pie too. They're just finishing up when Sam clears his throat and looks over at Dean.

“So, Dean, I was thinking – ” He stops when Dean and Cas glance at each other and start laughing. “What? What, you dopes?”

Dean raises his hands. “Sorry, Sammy. What were you thinking?” He's still grinning but he's also listening.

Sam scowls at both of them and takes the last bite of his pie. “Hmmm... Okay, cards on the table. Don't be mad, okay? Garth called me earlier while you were out, and he was telling me a little about the stuff you guys have been talking about.” Dean's frowning now, looking down at his plate. “Seriously, Dean, don't get upset about it, I think it's an awesome idea and I've got some ideas about ways to help you get yourself set up. We can seriously upgrade the computer system, and install a big phone board, like a switchboard, so hunters can, y'know, call in, get info, you can do research, get into the lore, all that stuff. I dunno, Dean, I think you can change the way hunters work, for the better.” Sam stops talking, frowning over at Cas and then back to Dean. Dean's silent, still looking down at the table. Sam sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Okay, um, anyway. This is your baby, I'll shut up and let you figure out what you want. Just know that whatever you decide, I've got your back. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

Dean looks up then, and there's a tentative smile on his face. He looks almost shy.

“Thanks, Sammy. I'm really – thanks. I mean it. I, um, I've been talking with Cas for awhile about what I'm gonna do, y'know? What I want now that things are – so different.” Sam frowns and leans forward, and Dean lifts a hand toward him. “No, no, I'm fine, I feel great, better than I have in years. I mean, not just healed up and physically better, I mean better. I feel like – I can rest now, I can, y'know, relax. I know if you need me, if you guys need me out there I can still do the job. I can still hunt, I just – I'm not feelin' it any more, not like I did. I don't – sorry, Sam, I don't want to do it any more.” He looks back and forth between Sam and Cas, an anxious expression on his face. “I don't want to let you guys down, I just – ”

Cas gets up and bends over him, hugging him tightly around the shoulders. He plants a kiss on the top of Dean's head. Sam grins at him from across the table, shaking his head. 

“You won’t be letting us down, don’t worry about that. This is a good change for you, I think. And you’ll be doing a lot of good, for us and every other hunter that’s out there. As soon as the word gets around I’m thinkin’ you’re gonna be busy. I better get started working on the electronics. I just wish…” His voice trails off, and Sam blinks rapidly, turning his face away a little. He feels Cas’ hand on his shoulder, and he clears his throat and looks up, trying to smile. 

Dean’s watching him carefully; Sam’s startled to see tears in the green eyes. “I know, Sam. I wish she was here too. I wish they were all here.” He blinks, and a couple of tears break free, rolling down his face. 

Sam nods and wipes his eyes. “Well, we’ll just have to do our best and hope they’re not laughing at us, wherever they are.” He manages a lopsided smile this time, and Dean gives him one back. They each sigh out a long breath, and after a second Dean pushed himself away from the table. 

“I’m gonna go call Garth, get this ball rolling. He’ll probably have some ideas about the computer stuff.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll clean this up. And hey, dinner was great, thanks.” 

“Wait’ll you see the frittata we’re having for breakfast.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and winks at Cas’ chuckle. He smiles, the real one this time, bright and cheery. It’s like ten years have rolled off of him; he looks almost like a kid again, before all the pain and horror and grief sank into his bones and absorbed the Mark into his soul. He looks young and free. He looks happy. 

Dean waves his hand over his head as he heads out the door, digging his phone out of his pocket as he goes. They hear his voice fading down the hallway: 

“Hey, yeah, Garth, it’s Dean again. Sorry to bug you, you busy? Ah good, just wanted to start chewing on this thing, I was thinking…” The door into the library opens and closes, cutting off the sound. 

Sam sits there for a couple of minutes, and then a few more. He’s gazing off into the distance, his eyes faraway. Cas finally clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Sam?” 

“Yeah, Cas, I’m fine, I just -- I was thinking about, I dunno, about the way we grew up and the way… I guess I was remembering the way we got pulled into the hunting life. Our dad was -- well, anyway, it just always felt to me like the tide, something I couldn’t stop or really control. All we could do was get out there and remember what he taught us and hope we survived. After Jess died and I left Stanford I never really thought it would be any different. I never thought we’d live past it and make different lives for ourselves. And Dean…” His voice trails off and he frowns at the tabletop. “Dean has been carrying this for so long, hunting and looking out for me, that I always thought he’d never be willing or able to -- to consider anything else. I never thought he’d even want to, not really.” 

“You didn’t think he wanted out of the constant cycle of violence, death, danger, everything it’s cost him?” Cas sounds a little angry. “You never considered he might be even more desperate for a normal life than you were?” 

Sam looks up at him, startled. “N-no, I don’t really mean that, Cas. I mean, I’m sure he always wished… Huh, maybe you’re right. He’s spent his whole life, literally, fighting and killing monsters and outsmarting evil and then moving on to the next job. I guess I assumed he’d curl up and die if he didn’t have that purpose, the pressure to keep moving.” 

Cas moves along the edge of the table, stacking up plates and gathering silverware in one hand. He’s quiet for so long Sam’s a little afraid he’s really angry. But when Sam glances over at him Cas has that soft little smile on his face, the one Sam’s beginning to think of as his Dean smile. 

“I read an article about sharks not long ago. Fascinating creatures, very interesting physiology. Did you know that despite its tremendous longevity it’s one of the rare beasts who has not evolved significantly in a very long time? They long ago reached their peak development. Amazing animals.” Cas hums to himself as he starts for the sink with the dirty dishes. 

Sam blinks at the sudden change of subject, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times. “Is that right?” 

Cas turns on the hot water tap and pours a little soap into the sink. “Yes. They’re very effective predators. They’re the kind of creature that has many stories told about them out of fear, and like most such tales, they tend to be false. For example, most people believe that sharks have to keep moving constantly into order maintain the flow of water through their gills. The story goes that if a shark stops swimming it will drown. Of course that’s not true. They rest and recharge, socialize, just as any living being does.” He smiles over at Sam, who’s standing with the refrigerator door open, paused in the middle of putting leftovers away. 

“In fact, many sharks are quite friendly and pleasant under certain circumstances. They’re still predators -- hunters, if you will -- but they also have a peaceful existence. They have found a way to live in harmony with their environment.” 

A smile stretches across Sam’s face. He’s nodding as he finishes up in the fridge and closes the door. Cas has started washing the dishes, and Sam comes to stand alongside him to rinse and dry. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Sam bumps Cas’ shoulder a little and grins over at him. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

“You’re very welcome, Sam.” 

“Think maybe Dean’ll feel like a movie later, after he’s done on the phone?” 

Cas pulls the plug out of the sink and wipes his hands. When he looks up his eyes are filled with warmth, affection, peace. It occurs to Sam that maybe Castiel, former Angel of the Lord, has adapted to his environment too. 

“That sounds perfect, Sam. Let’s do that.” 

Sam nods and smiles at his friend, drying his own hands. Down the hall he can hear his brother’s voice, coming back from the library and winding up his phone call. Cas moves to the fridge and rummages around for beer. Sam pulls the popcorn popper down from its shelf - and then stands there holding it in his hands. 

It feels a little as though time has stopped, just long enough for him to look around and really see where they are. A long road behind them, dark and cold; lined with loss and pain and the graves of too many people. But for the first time in many years, maybe ever, Sam feels optimistic, even eager to see what’s next. It may not be a perfect peace, but it starts in this little oasis, this quiet moment with the people he loves most. He can finally identify the warm feeling in his heart: gratitude, that’s what this is. He’s grateful. 

“Sam? Are you all right?” Sam jerks around at the sound of Cas’ voice, just in time to see Dean come through the door. 

“Hey, Sammy, are you gonna stand there admiring that popper or actually use it? Does this mean movie night? C’mon, let’s fire it up, whaddaya say?” Dean stops and frowns at him. “Sam?” 

Sam shakes his head, blinking back tears and smiling at his brother. “Yeah, yeah, let’s buckle in and marathon this bitch. I haven’t watched Firefly in awhile, that okay?” 

Cas gets a dreamy look in his eyes. “I would like that as well.” 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, I know you, you just wanna ogle Captain Tightpants. Or maybe our Mrs. Reynolds.” He grins at Cas’ blush. Sam laughs. 

“Go on, you two, go get set up and I’ll get popcorn going. How about a little cheese on it this time?” 

Dean groans and mutters something about hipsters ruining a traditional movie treat as he slings one arm around Cas’ shoulders. As they move out the door Cas looks back at Sam, nodding his head vigorously in a vote for cheese. Sam winks at him, and watches them go, hearing their voices and Dean’s laugh as they troop off down the hall. 

 

_Let the light guide your way_  
_Hold every memory as you go_  
_and every road you take_  
_will always lead you home._

_It’s been a long day without you, my friend,_  
_and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again._  
_We’ve come a long way from where we began,_  
_and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again,_  
_when I see you again._


End file.
